if you change your mind i'll be first in line
by hyacinthian
Summary: Rachel is not a Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction kind of girl. RachelFinn.


A/N: Originally written/posted pre 1x03. Betaed by Debbie.

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_I've always been a staunch supporter of women's rights. Broadway is practically founded on strong women. Look at Barbara Streisand - in Yentl, she fought to get her right to study the torah by dressing as a man. Not that I would go that far - my fashion sense would strongly object, but it's important to recognize the achievements that strong women in show business have made. And despite how much I may or may not want to light an effigy of a certain head cheerleader on fire and roast marshmallows for s'mores over the ashes, I still recognize that, as female ... performers (well, at least one of us is), it takes a lot to be taken seriously in this establishment. Mr. Schuester's giving away my solo shows the inherent discrimination in the system - he is trying to drive a wedge between members of the sisterhood, and as a forward-thinking feminist in this day and age, that is simply unacceptable. Women get tough breaks_.

_And while I understand that one of us is more of a shrew than the other, though I have enough tact not to say who the other party is (my dads raised me to be charming and guileful and tactful, because these traits will come in handy when I go to accept my Tony and Oscar, respectively; in my twenty-year plan, I'll lobby for the musical I headlined to be made into a movie-musical, due to its overwhelming financial success, and revolutionize the genre; they'll call me the next Ginger Rogers, except I'll be in color, and sing), I understand that a betrayal of any kind is a she doesn't deserve that. No one deserves that, no matter who the boy is._

Effigies on the other hand are like black apparel - they're for every season.

Finn stops her after practice one day, a grasp of the wrist, two fingers against her pulse point. He swallows. "Rachel, I, uh..."

She looks up at him, eyes hopeful. She knows. She knows that this is not what heroines or ingenues do, barring Christine from Phantom who was a bit insane and a little whorish for her tastes, but she can't help it. "Yes, Finn?"

Quinn calls distantly from the other side of the auditorium.

"You haven't been talking to me."

She casts her gaze down towards the floor. "Oh, well, I - um, I've just been tremendously busy."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Between glee and my new campaign to run for junior class senator, things have been hectic." She smooths out wrinkles on her skirt. "I've barely had time to arrange music for my MySpace anymore."

"I just wanted to make sure that you weren't ... mad at me, or anything."

"Finn, you're still - um, you're still holding my..."

"Oh!" He pulls his hand away, blinking.

Quinn traipses over, blonde ponytail flicking back and forth with her punctuated steps. "Finn," she says, smiling, "I'm about to go practice my solo. Don't you want to come over and..."

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah."

He raises a hand in greeting to Rachel before heading over towards the piano. She stares mindlessly at the linear equations she's supposed to be solving as her mind forges ahead, relentlessly analyzing Quinn's every note, every arpeggio. The higher notes are too thin for her, she thinks. The way she slides from the C to the E should be more fluid. She presses so hard on her pencil, the graphite tip snaps off, and she can't even muster annoyance at her forgetting to pack a pencil sharpener.

"Smell of wine and cheap perfume..."

She jumps up, unable to contain herself. "Mr. Schuester!"

He sighs. "Yes, Rachel?"

"In the interest of maintaining our reputation as a group of talented singers and resist falling into a plateau or rut of some kind, I think Quinn needs a little more work in learning how to sing more from the diaphragm, less from the chest."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "This isn't because you're bitter over me getting your solo, is it?"

Rachel narrows her eyes. "I would never stoop to something so petty."

Mercedes, Kurt, Artie, and Tina cross their arms in solidarity. "Listen, cupcake," Mercedes intones. "Rachel may be annoying, but she knows what she's talking about."

Rachel beams. "Thank you, Mercedes."

Santana and the two other blondes stand behind Quinn, pleated cheerleader skirts practically ruffled in offense. "We're Cheerios, Melinda," Santana starts.

"Mercedes," Mercedes corrects.

"Just because you don't know what quality looks or sounds like doesn't mean we should waste time teaching you."

Will claps his hands, hoping to break the tension. He coughs out an awkward chuckle. "Okay, guys."

Finn says, "Mr. Schue, I'm going to have to leave for football."

"Yeah, okay, Finn, go ahead."

Quinn and her pack follow suit soon after.

-

After glee, Rachel's headed home, backpack on her shoulders when she sees someone waving her down. "Finn!" she says. "Hi." Despite what's happened, she's found that she can't help but feel excited when she sees him, no matter how much she hates it. Rachel's never considered herself a woman of low moral fiber; her philosophy consists of suffering through the hardships of life and triumphing in the end. These are all, of course, backed up by numerous metaphors from theatrical performances. Elphaba doesn't make an attack on Fiyero; he just comes to his senses and realizes that Glinda is wrong for him. And Kate Monster dumps Princeton the moment she discovers he's hanging around with Lucy the Slut, until he realizes that he need her. This is her plan.

"I wanted to talk to you at practice, but then we had to, um, sing."

"That's what we generally do at glee club rehearsals."

"I know, I know. I'm just used to like messing around, you know? Football isn't so serious." Rachel arches a brow. "I know you take glee seriously."

"I intend for glee club to be a venue showcasing my talent, Finn, and prove to be a springboard to Broadway for me. If I don't take it seriously, it will just end up being another wasted line on a resume that people will never read, and my charm is definitely not as persuasive as exemplifying my talent through performance."

"I don't - I didn't really follow that. I just wanted to make sure that things were okay."

"They're...fine, Finn. Why wouldn't they be?"

"I know I kissed you and it was - it was weird."

"It was weird?"

"I didn't mean to say it was weird. It's - I mean, it was nice."

She stops walking, looks up at him with an expression of barely restrained giddiness. "Nice?"

He fidgets. "Rachel, I know this is a ... weird situation, what with Quinn being on glee and all. And I know that sometimes she can be mean. But maybe - you know, maybe she'll find out that she loves to sing too. I don't go around throwing pee balloons at people anymore."

"Which is a sign of real emotional growth, I think."

"Thanks."

"Finn," she says, looking up at him. "You really don't have to explain anything to me."

"I know, but I just - I want to, you know?" His timbre drops, voice low and deep in that way that makes her skin tingle.

She just manages to nod, a soft murmur of syllables escaping her. He leans down then, nose brushing hers, lips so close. He presses his lips to hers briefly, lips soft, slight pressure, and she sighs into the kiss.

She pushes him away and he looks at her, blinking, confused. "Finn," she says, pressing her lips together. "I hate Quinn."

"Okay?"

"She's picked on me my entire life and sometimes, I think that she barely satisfies the definition of being a human being, aside from all the physical evolutionary similarities to the rest of the species."

"I'm not following."

"We can't do this," she says, and she's not looking down anymore. She's got her power Rachel going - shoulders back, chest forward, standing taller than the five-foot-two than she usually feels like she is. Her eyes are directly on his, expression earnest. "I just want to make sure you understand the context involved. I hate Quinn because she makes my life miserable, but she doesn't deserve this. Not that I'm saying you'd want to do--" She gestures indistinctly in the space between the two of them, "--this, but just to get it out in the open. If you want to be with Quinn, then you should be with Quinn. And if you don't, then don't. But you shouldn't kiss me and then go back to her the next day. It isn't fair. To either of us."

Rachel likes to think of herself as a particularly forward-thinking individual, and this, this is killing her because this is Finn, with his slightly less than impressive vocabulary and his chivalry and his earnestness, and she doesn't think she's wanted anything quite as much as she wants Julliard and Broadway and international fame, but it's rivaling that, and the fact that she's getting the beginnings of tunnel vision about her career, of all things, something she's been preparing for since the womb, practically, is unnerving. But she knows. Her dads would be incredibly upset with her if they ever found out and if she can't even hold herself to her own moral standard, how does she expect others to do so? Yes, she believes in sex and relationships and romance, but Quinn, with her Cheerios outfit and her blonde hair and her disdain, deserves something better than being cheated on.

They walk in silence the rest of the way to her house.

-

At the next rehearsal, Finn rattles off an excuse about not feeling well, letting Artie in to sing his part in "Don't Stop Believing" with Quinn.

Rachel casts him a concerned glance. She tells herself she's just going to be his friend. Just his friend.

Looking at Quinn, she tells herself it's the right decision. It is. It has to be.


End file.
